


Ain't Nothing Like Christmastime

by a tattered rose (atr)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Christmas fun, Multi, plus special guests - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atr/pseuds/a%20tattered%20rose
Summary: In which Eliot, Parker, and Hardison get the coolest Christmas presents I could dream up.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28
Collections: 2020 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange





	Ain't Nothing Like Christmastime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BabylonsFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/gifts).



> Written for Orion as part of the 2020 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange.

The tapping cane aimed straight for the hostess stand, despite the confused press of people entering and exiting and carting large bags full of items that would soon be wrapped, with varying success, in Holiday-themed wrapping paper. The sound managed to cut through, not ominous, not threatening, but yet conveying the impression that any inconvenience to the steady progress would be met with a sharp rap to the calf.

“Welcome to Bridgeport Brew Pub, table for one?”

The hostess was leveled with a formidable though not unbenevolent stare. “In the corner. I don't like being jostled while I eat.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Such was the power behind the request that no fewer than two couples would be waiting a few minutes more as the woman was led to an appropriate table. “Can I get you anything to start off?”

“I'll have a glass of that 'Thief Juice' I've heard so much about-”

“-er, that's really more of a novelty item, are you sure-”

“-and the Special of the Day.”

The Hostess nodded doubtfully, passing the order off to a waitress to be carried to the back. It wasn't that the off-menu drink was bad, per se, more that it was absolutely awful to anyone who would refer to themselves as possessing a palate. The only reason it hadn't fallen into oblivion was a certain traction amongst the city's college students as a celebratory 'first legal drink.'

The woman had just begun chewing a precise bite of bacon potato pizza when the building exploded.

Not all of it. But something had gone very, very wrong in the floor above.

A bar full of drinks tipped over, some more rolling off tables to crash into damp shards underfoot, glasses became seeping puddles creating islands of grease-free appetizers. Patrons screamed and scattered, unsure what was happening or what to do, and slipped in the mess. Earthquake? Attack? The questions became hysterical, fighting against half-deaf ears.

Grimly, the woman took a sip of her drink before rising to her feet.

~*

Eliot was running for the stairs before his brain could register what his body had felt. Hardison. Parker. He just had to get to them.

The door was half off its hinges. He finished the job with a kick, eyes tightly shut. In case of smoke, or gas, he told himself, but really it was in case...

“I told you that was wrong.”

“Woman, were you even listening? I said-”

“Hi Eliot!”

The man in question stopped cold; body, for once, out of his control. The breath he had been holding came out in a rush as a weight fell from his chest: “DAMMIT HARDISON.”

“Now I know you aren't about to blame me, this is a faulty oven is wha-”

“DAMMIT PARKER.”

The two were in the kitchen, ducked down against the island. And covered - they were covered, the kitchen was covered, hell the entire apartment was covered – in flour and globs of some sort of orange batter.

His blonde thief, much paler than usual after her dusting, popped upright with a bright smile. “It's okay, we know what we did wrong, we can fix it!”

The vacuum of adrenaline left Eliot shaking, but all he felt was relief. He'd have to clean up the mess, but he didn't care. For one minute his heart had stopped when he knew, just knew, that his team – his family – his... _loves_ were dead. Compared to that, everything else was a properly decorated piece of cake.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” Hardison had stood more slowly, hands raised in pacifying gesture.

“WHAT WERE YOU TWO EVEN DOING?!?” Everything, for a little while, might come out in a roar. Then he was moving, advancing on Hacker and Thief like predator to prey, until he was close enough to throttle them both into a hug.

Parker snuggled in happily, while Hardison patted his back. With increasing frequency. “Elio-” he finally wheezed, “can't... breath...” Whereupon he was released, only to be hauled back into a quick squeeze before being pushed lightly back. Eliot's demonstrations of affection still had a bit of push-pull to them, probably always would, but the other two didn't mind. That's what made him... him.

“What are the odds this is going to melt your skin off?” he gruffed, as soon as he could trust himself to speak.

“None. Absolutely none. Might turn orange for a few days but-” Hardison's eyes went wide as a sedate tapping approached. A smile wider than the Cheshire Cat's, filled with joy rather than mischief, threatened to blind the world as the noise ceased. “Nana! Y'all, this my Nana!”

~*

Nana – for that's who it was – stopped in the doorway to survey the scene.

“Now Alec, I know I raised you better than this.” Her tone would easily slice through butter – butter which had been frozen solid. Parker and Eliot exchanged uneasy glances. “Are you gonna to invite me in, or leave your old Nana standing in the hall?”

Hardison ran over to give her a reciprocated kiss and hug, before escorting her to a chair which had escaped the carnage. As she settled herself, Hardison waved the others over.

“Nana, this is Eliot and Parker.” Still grinning widely, he tapped their backs.

“Yes, Alec has told me all about you two.”

“Hi!” “How do you do Ma'am” they mumbled like schoolchildren.

“Nonsense.” She gave them each a poke with her cane. “You're family, give Nana a kiss.”

They obliged, with a certain uncertain relief, and perched on the couch opposite.

“Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why didn't you tell me you were coming over? We would have – uh - ...” While he spoke Hardison had swiped the edge of the coffee table with an unsuspecting throw. “... cleaned up.”

Nana hmph'ed, and set her purse on the cleared surface. “I'm here to deliver y'all's Christmas present.”

Parker leaned forwards eagerly as Nana reached into her bag, only to fall back in disappointment when all that was produced was a thin envelope that didn't even smell of cash.

“But it's only the 21st,” Hardison protested. “We always do presents after brunch on Christmas and we already promised this year we'll be... there...” his eyes flashed from side to side. “Uh... I was gonna tell y'all, you know, but there was that one case, and then the other one, and we _did_ say we were taking the week off...”

The stares continued.

“So yay! Merry Christmas, who's excited?”

Nana took over the silence. “I was wondering what to give the three of you, so I called up your Mr. Ford and Miss Deveraux for a little help.”

“You know Nate and Sophie?”

“-How do you know how to-”

“-They gave you their numbers? Did they think we needed-”

“I've been raising teenagers for 30 years, you think Nana's a fool?” The Matriarch's voice cut through. “I always know how to get in touch with y'all's friends, that's my job. Keeping an eye on you.”

“What, exactly, have they told you about what we do?” Eliot walked a verbal tightrope.

“Can't imagine there's much they'd need to tell me, or that I'd want to know. But I must say, those are fine friends you've made,” she nodded in approval. “Even made sure we could watch.”

“Watch?”

“I'll be back at a quarter to twelve tomorrow.” Her eyes landed on a glob which had finally made an escape from Parker's hair. “I expect this apartment to be spic and span by the time I do.” Leaving the envelope on the table she rose, cane and purse in firm grip. “And don't forget you're bringing the yams for dinner. I tried the pizza, very fine, I suggest you let Eliot cook.”

Eliot preened at the compliment while the other two shrugged in agreement.

At the door Nana turned back to Hardison. “But leave that 'Thief Juice' of yours here. Never thought I'd taste something worse than that orange soda, but now I have.”

When the tapping reached the elevator Parker gave up on her best behaviour. “That was your Nana? She's amazing. Do you think she'd want to help us with a con?”

Hardison cut his eyes to the door. “Probably best not to bring that up during the Holidays. Uh, Eliot?”

The Hitter's expression was thundering. “And when, exactly, were you going to tell me about dinner? Family gatherings take planning, damnit! You have to be distinctive, while complementing every other dish. Not to mention snacks for an in-law!”

~*

Parker objected – continuously – when Eliot made them clean up before opening the mysterious envelope. “But what if we have to get something now? Nana wouldn't have given it to us if she didn't want us to open it right away. What if there's a bomb?”

“A bomb, seriously?”

“Not inside. It could be anywhere, and that's instructions on how to diffuse it! Or what if someone's in trouble and needs our help?”

On the bright side, many hands do make light(er) work, and the bickering proved welcome distraction from the dull nature of chores. Though not, it had to be said, as distracting as the splash-filled group bath taken in the jacuzzi-tub they'd installed.

Once everything (and everyone) was squeaky clean, they gathered back on the couch. By mutual agreement, Parker did the honours, tearing into the paper with all the finesse of a master lockpick. When all that fell out was a piece of paper with a few lines of cursive, she sighed and passed it to Eliot.

“Alec: December 22, 1-4pm, and a bunch of gibberish. Eliot: December 23, 2-5pm at 153 Claybourne. Parker: December 24, 7-10pm– what is this?”

Hardison had taken a picture on his phone, and was typing away. “Mine's an empty website, but there's nothing to trace back, must be uploading a redirect tomorrow. Eliot, that's the warehouse district. And Parker- ooh, you're going to loooove this one.”

“Gimme.” Parker lunged for the phone, inciting a brief tussle that left the Hacker lodged in a gentle armbar, trying futiley to tap out as Eliot shook his head in disgust. Parker had become an apt fighter but Hardison- it was a good thing he had bonded with his (latest) van.

“Yes!” Parker shouted, throwing her arms around Eliot as an expression of her glee. “I get to go on it right? How'd she know?!? This is the Best. Present. It's even better than money!”

“Seriously?” came a gasp from somewhere under Parker's knee. “Y'all trying to kill me today. I ain't even going to make it to Christmas.”

~*

11:45 on the dot saw Nana back at the door of the brew pub, this time to be escorted upstairs by the three proprietors.

While Eliot explained the selection of snack foods (carefully curated from an extracted list of everything Hardison had ever seen his Nana eat), Hardison ensconced himself at his computer rig, readying every program and script he thought he might need. It would be a puzzle, they had decided, as it was unlikely a “Christmas Present” would include a matter of life or death. Resigning themselves to an afternoon of scrolling code and yelping commentary, Eliot grabbed a beer, and Parker tried to stuff popcorn into his mouth.

With one minute to go, a countdown appeared on every screen. “Five, four, three, two, o-”

“Chaos!” Hardison shouted, as the other Hacker's face filled the screens.

“Relax Hardison, this is a sanctioned break-in. I didn't even look in your porn folder.”

“You did not just say that in front of my- Not that I even have a-”

“And this must be the famed Nana. A pleasure to meet you ma'am, though clearly neither your beauty nor your poise rubbed off.”

Nana, for her part, only raised an eyebrow.

“Parker,” Chaos didn't miss a beat, “yummy as always. And Eliot, still thuggish, I see.”

“Oh no you don't,” Hardison had been muttering. “This is my security. _Mine_.”

“Anyway, my work here is done. Thank Sophie and Nate for my new toy: though getting to watch Hardison fail would be payment enough. Chaos out!”

His visage was immediately replaced by a world of colourful, rectilinear-

“Isn't this Minecraft?” Parker piped up.

“A kid's game? Really?” Eliot's voice held a trace of sneer. His virtual fishing experience had not improved his opinion of pixels.

Hardison didn't look up, but then he didn't need to. “A kid- How many times I got to tell you man? It's a sandbox. Sand. Box.” As he spoke he quickly checked his pre-loaded inventory and scrolled through the mod pack. “You can do anything in here. An. E. Thing.” And navigated his character into the only structure in view. “Adventure, architecture, city planning, programming, rpg,” a quick look through an instruction book confirmed it would be an “ha! Escape the Room – you know they even have a mod that lets you play Pokemon in here?”

“Aw, they're so cute!” Parker crunched a piece of hard candy. “Meowth is still my favourite, but do you want to hear the theme song Nana? I know the whole thing.”

“Maybe later dear.”

“And this room is clearly parkour, a time honoured test of dexterity and timing.”

Hardison leapt up, across, and over to gentle applause. Until the eighth time he was pushed, or fell, into the lava covered floor, at which point his audience redirected much of their attention to each other.

“So Nana, what was Hardison like when he was little? Was he always this cool? Did he wear those funny glasses with the head strap?”

Lost in memory, Nana smiled, the instant softening of her features making it clear why she inspired such devotion in her young charge. “I won't pretend he didn't get into his share of trouble. But he was always a good boy. His heart's in the right place, he never let nothing budge it an inch.”

“I'd say some of that's down to you Ma'a- Nana,” Eliot corrected himself. “He brings you up a lot when we're in... situations.”

“He loves you a lot,” Parker added. “I really wish I'd lived with you too.”

Nana reached over to pat her hand. “Alec's told me just as much about what you went through, and I wish that too sweetie. Can't say I'd have been able to give you much, but my kids always have a home to come back to and food on the table.”

“Suck it Chaos!” The moment was disrupted as Hardison hit the final platform and entered the next room, one very small and containing nothing but a single lever and second door. Still he searched every block before giving in to Parker's chant to just “pull it!”

“Ha!” she exclaimed, as a side wall pulled back, revealing a passage labeled “maintenance.”

The screen stilled as hands pulled away from the keyboard. “Oh hell no.” A massive space was filled with a complex array of various blocks and rails and coated with the lines of sparkling red Hardison had explained were akin to wires. “They didn't even colour code- shoddy, that's what this is, shoddy work. What self-respecting redstoner does this? A damn fool, that's who.”

“Mind your language young man. And I'm told to say that's a feature, not a bug. Something about playing with the big boys.”

As the “feature not a bug” complaints subsided into a background buzz, Parker jumped up. “Ooh, you need to meet Hardy! Hardison made her for me, she's so cute, and she knows almost everything I know about safe cracking!”

Over an hour later Nana had not only been properly introduced to Hardy, but been treated to a detailed tour of the apartment and kitchens. If she had any thoughts about the one bedroom they weren't expressed, and she even taught Eliot her recipe for a Depression Cake.

“Don't share this out, mind, it's a family secret.”

“No ma'am, it's safe with me.”

Nana gave him a pat on the arm. “I hear you've kept much bigger secrets than this one, I'm sure it's in good hands.”

“There's one thing...”

“Yes?”

Eliot weighted whether to ask, but curiosity – and the sense of security he had – won out. “Why this year? I mean, Hardison's never introduced us to you before and it's been years.”

She paused to pull the cake from the oven and give it a satisfied poke, while Parker watched closely from her perch on the counter. “I suppose you'd know as well as I do. Been inviting y'all over for years now, this is just the first time Alec hasn't come up with some excuse or other.”

A shout startled them all. “Take that! Ain't no mistimed repeated going to defeat me!”

It turned out there was one more room, this one filled with unhappy villager characters. Much more interesting to the viewers, they all offered suggestions to an increasingly frustrated Hacker. Until, with mere minutes left, a final smile marked the opening of the last door.

“Well done child.” Nana gathered her things as Hardison copied the jumble of numbers on the screen. “I got to get home, lots of hungry mouths be wanting dinner. But I'll be back tomorrow.”

After seeing her out, Parker gave Hardison a squeeze, Eliot donating a slap on the back.

“Yeah, well, I'll be the one laughing tomorrow, see how you like it.”

~*

Warehouses, in the context of the Leverage crew, did not hold memories of the most benign nature. Things tended to _happen_ in them. And while Nana exited the car peacefully enough, the other three kept their eyes open and Eliot to the front. And what they found inside was indeed vaguely ominous, in the manner of a child creating a Godzilla scene from the contents of their toy box.

A lit square in the center, scattered with crates and shelves. A countdown clock. A raised viewing platform.

“What the hell-” Eliot began, as three shapes walked out of the shadows.

“Go on now, say hello to your friends before the game starts.” Nana shrugged off Hardison's arm and mounted the stair on her own.

Not-really-deceptive casualness marked his path to meet the trio in the center of the square, where all four regarded one another. “Shelly, good to see you,” as the two shook hands. “Quinn. Mikel.” A confused fist-bump and questioning smile.

“Now I know you three have agreed to the rules, but Parker, if you could go over them for Eliot. And,” she looked them over like rowdy kids in the schoolyard, “as a reminder.”

Parker took the sheet of paper produced. “Each player will find a tray of paint in their corner. The goal is to be the last player who is not 100% covered in paint, of any colour. The paint is only able to be transferred by direct contact, whether bodily contact or available props located around the ring. No outside materials allowed. Any players attempting to seriously injure or incapacitate another player will be immediately disqualified. Rounds to be 15 minutes, players involved in each round to be announced. Have fun!”

“Gotta say man, this sounds like a fun time.” Shelly clapped Eliot on the back.

“Figures you'd be up for this crazy thing, but what's in it for you two?”

Mikel answered first. “You think I am too serious for games?”

“Let's just say a fun time isn't the only good reason to be here.” Quinn followed up. “And there's also sufficient motivation to win.”

“Round 1: free-for-all. Five minutes until start,” Hardison took his turn to read, and the four began scavenging padded sticks and rope, surveyed the field, and generally preparing for battle. “You know, this is maybe the coolest present Eliot could get. How did you come up with this?”

Nana smiled. “I got the idea from that World of Warlock game-”

“-Warcraft-”

“-you're always going on about. Didn't seem your friend much likes staring at a computer screen, would rather do it himself.”

“That's true,” Parker agreed, as the clock beeped the start of the round and the atmosphere shifted.

Then they were mostly silent, enthralled by the action unfolding. Mikel and Shelly appeared to have teamed up, which proved useful after they managed to corner Quinn, as Mikel continued to keep him occupied as the sticks ran out of paint so Shelly could go reload. The strategy garnered applause, but Eliot received hooting as he stealth-jumped in and rolled his weapon over them both before diving for cover.

It was an unofficial two on two until the bell rang again and they all froze, panting, each more colourful than when they had begun.

“Five minute break,” Parker announced. “Then Eliot versus Shelly.”

“Forgive my prying, but how are you three getting by on your own?” Hardison and Parker both opened their mouths to explain, but Nana continued before they could figure out how. “Your friends said they have every faith you're handling it, but being two men down, so to speak, must prove a challenge.”

“Oh it's not always just us on the job. Friends help us out when we need them.” Tara had proved invaluable on more than one occasion: she said it was because they paid well, but they knew they'd grown on her. And Nate's absence didn't hurt either.

“And we've all picked up skills since we started this all.” Hardison grinned widely, which was probably why Nana “hmm hmm”'d at him. “I mean, you know, my accent work is pretty damn good now, and Parker, ooh, you should see her handle a room full of people! Girl used to be terrified.”

Parker's eyes lit up. “No forks at all! Not one!”

Whether this proclamation would have resulted in an uncomfortable follow-up was moot, as the bell rang again.

An hour later, Quinn, Eliot, and Mikel were squaring off. Trianguling off? Mikel had actually been the first to sacrifice her own feet and forearms, switching to hand to hand combat. The others quickly followed suit, though she maintained an edge as the underside of her heels acted as a small portable reservoir.

“So Nana,” Parker began, “was there anything you wanted to ask us about, you know, _us_?”

Nana didn't pretend to misunderstand. “Y'all's business is your business. Can't say as I completely understand, but I want my kids to be happy, and if you are, who'm I to step in over the details?”

Hardison leaned in to Parker's ear. “See? Told you you'd love my Nana.” They stayed that way, holding hands, for the rest of the round.

By the eight match-up everyone was still alive, though progress had slowed as they each carefully guarded their remaining patches and slivers of clear skin and clothes. Like dragons, Parker had remarked, invulnerable but for that one soft spot on their belly.

It was Nana who pointed out the aptness of that comparison: “yes, the boys have another reason to protect their 'family jewels.'” An analogy resulting in one horrified gasp and one giggling high five, (take a guess which was which!)

Moments later Mikel nutted Shelly, and the player count was down to three.

“Go Eliot!” Parker jumped on her chair as he let a charge 'fail,' only to use the position to slap his drenched hair into Quinn's eyebrow. “Take him!”

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of arms and legs as Mikel threw herself into the fray, the action much too tight for visual confirmation. But the bodily awareness of Hitters cannot be underestimated, as Quinn felt his final blow and dropped to the side in defeat.

It was down to two.

In unspoken agreement, they went back to their corners before stalking back into the middle.

“My, they know how to put on a show, don't they? I haven't had this much fun in years.”

“You hear that? My own Nana doesn't appreciate what I did yesterday. Debugging a whole-ass- no one understands what I do, just because it ain't flashy but-” Hardison's rant distracted no one, not even himself as they watched Eliot and Mikel locked in a hold, movements slight, testing for weakness, intention, anticipation for the final gambit in this chess game of bodies.

Mikel leapt, Eliot spun, she straddled his shoulders and he lost the spot on the side of his neck but won the war as he pushed his palm into her armpit.

The buzzer sounded for a final time as the four fighters gathered in mutual respect before dispersing.

“That was awesome!” Eliot displayed rare pure enthusiasm. “No way we're not doing that again!”

And even Nana didn't object when he got paint all over them.

~*

When Eliot and Hardison woke alone in bed the next morning, they weren't unduly concerned. Twenty minutes later when they ambled into the living room, they weren't particularly surprised to find their Thief enthralled by the television, and went about their days.

Eight hours later, it was a bit weird to find her staring at the door with the anticipation of a sneaky child waiting to catch Santa.

“C'mon c'mon c'mon, where's Nana? Can we leave early and pick her up?”

“It's only 4 o'clock.”

“And Nana isn't coming.”

“She's not?” The disappointment in Parker's voice was palpable.

“It's too late and too cold for her. But we'll be there, and she'll be watching through the video feed – and we'll see her tomorrow.”

“For Christmas.”

“For Christmas,” Eliot affirmed.

They did leave a little early – it was that or Parker might have spontaneously combusted – and Nana called while they were on their way. “But you made me wait all this time... I do not need to work on patience! I've been very patient...” was heard spilling over from the back of the van.

They'd figured she'd calm down once they were onsite. Which proved correct as soon as the course was in view, and she settled into the narrow focus she got when a job was at hand. Loose but still, analyzing every detail.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed.

And really, it was. The Ninja Warrior course glowed under multicoloured lights, massive and sprawling and capped by Mount Midoriyama itself, five stories tall.

The ultimate test of strength, endurance, agility, strategy, resilience and heart. “The ultimate obstacle course.”

“I thought you'd like it.” Nana's voice came from the tablet in Hardison's hand, but her face appeared on one of the large screens. “'Course I can't take the credit for this one. Wasn't set up just for you.”

Parker was already oblivious, warming up and stretching, but Eliot side-eyed the camera. “They set up an outdoor obstacle course outside Portland in Winter?”

“Might be they originally planned it a little further south, might be they were going to put it in closer to Spring.” Nana had the slip of a smile. “But who knows why those folks make the decisions they do?”

“Whoohoo!” Parker untwisted herself, and started punching the air. “Let's do this! What are the rules?”

“None you ain't familiar with already, I heard you're a fan.”

As the clock ticked down to the 7 o'clock start, Eliot and Hardison took to the sidelines, where they'd be able to walk down the first stage of the course as Parker progressed.

“You know whatever makes our girl happy makes me happy. An' I know I mocked y'all for watching this show-”

“It's the hardest obstacle course in the world Hardison! The best conditioned athletes in the world train for this, and you know how many manage to-”

“Yeah.” Hardison countered Eliot's rant with serenity. “And less than 10 have ever finished. I listen. I just didn't get it until I saw it in person.”

“-And these are the hardest challenges they- okay then.”

When the countdown hit zero Nana announced: “Stage 1: agility. 155 seconds to complete the eight obstacles.”

Parker took off, bouncing back and forth between the iconic slanted blocks with ease and swinging cleanly over to the first platform. Without breaking stride she leapt to cling to a vertical log that started sliding down a track as several sudden drops tried to shake her loose.

“Too bad she can't compete for real, isn't it?”

She didn't stumble once, bounding lightly over the edge of spinning boards and flying up the mega warped wall, which curved up 18 feet, to smack the first buzzer with 30 seconds to spare.

“That was AWESOME!” she yelled, and started jumping down towards the start of Stage 2.

“Hold up baby girl! We got to get over there too.”

“Be smart about this, Parker. Take a break and recenter.”

Parker took Eliot's advice, shaking it out for five whole minutes as she studied the next 10 obstacles, which focused on upper body strength.

“Stage 2: you have four minutes.”

Eliot, Hardison noted, was holding his breath, fingers actually crossed as Parker swung on a twisting bar, forcing it to behave like a proper trapeeze so she could fly to the next, and next, twisting her body midair to grab onto the ones set perpendicular to the last. But she caught them all, nailing the final 11 foot landing, smile on her face.

“You nervous man? She got this.”

“Shut up Hardison.”

Soon enough she was hanging from a giant horizontal ring, using her body as momentum to spin it around so she could grab another, this one swinging wildly until she was able to tame it to her bidding, and deposit her safely on the next platform.

Hardison's arms hurt even watching, and he vowed to spend some time reliving his childhood on the monkey bars, before giving it up as he watched her struggle to lift and flip a series of plexiglass walls.

“That don't look fair, not for a tiny slip like her.” Nana had been mostly silent, it surprised both men when she spoke.

“They're 95 to 135 pounds,” Eliot supplied.

“That's heavier than she is!”

But she triumphed, hitting the second buzzer with time left on the clock, though her smile was closer to a grimace.

“Maybe I'll take a little break now...”

Still, she rallied quickly as Eliot massaged her shoulders. “Remember, there's no time limit. Slow and steady – but don't hang around, and find rests where you can.”

Parker nodded along. “Got it.” This stage focused again on upper body strength, but also grip strength. As someone who routinely hung off buildings by her fingertips, she trusted her hands. They'd never failed her before. And only eight obstacles stood between her and the final test.

“Whenever you're ready child, I'm rooting for you!”

Stage 3 could be deceptive. It wasn't particularly hard to cling to the hanging door, maneuver around it, and transfer to the next then the next to the next. Very few competitors fell on this one. But that wasn't the point. The point was to drain as much energy as possible, proving the whole course is more than its parts.

“What if she falls?”

“There's water down there, and we'll get her dried off.”

“No Eliot, I mean what if she _falls_?”

After a moment of silence, Eliot took Hardison's hand. “Then we pick her up, dry her off, and she'll try again next year like everyone else.”

Even though it was a familiar sight, they held their breaths as Parker clung to narrow ledges and moved herself across, up, down, slipping slightly on a decline before in a heartstopping move threw herself at a parallel wall and did it all again.

And then she was navigating a set of giant windchimes, where a moment of inattention or patch of slick set her sliding down, one hand completely off the shorter rod and she was dangling before she managed to jerk herself up to catch it again. Next it was a twisted rock wall, the handholds affixed to the underside of a panel tilted up at a 45 degree angle. Minutes later she was using her hands and arms to pedal an inverted unicycle over a roller coaster.

By the final obstacle Hardison was pretty sure Eliot was going to break his hand and he'd never type again. But the pain distracted him from the overwhelming anxiety as Parker held on to horizontal cylinders that looked like gears, handholds sufficient but laughing as any weight imbalance sent them spinning.

They almost didn't realize it was over when she was safely dismounted, arms raised only briefly in triumph before falling limp to her sides, slapping the buzzer on the way down. Not until a very loud “Fine job!” brought them back to the moment and they went to collect her, one of her arms thrown over each of their shoulders in a familiar comradery.

One stage left: climbing a 75 foot rope in under 30 seconds.

“What if I can't do it?” Parker whispered into the tablet after she'd shoo'd Eliot and Hardison away.

“Dear, I just watched you do what a thousand men haven't managed. You gonna let a little rope stop you now?”

“No, but...” she lowered her voice even more. “Don't tell anyone this, but... I'm tired.”

Nana's laughter rang loud. “Lemme tell you something about women that I've learned – don't know if you're planning on having kids, but it don't matter – it's about family. You get tired, deep in your bones, think you can't go on. But you look in the eyes of someone you love, the people you love, and that's the strength you need to go on.” Across the distance their eyes locked, warmth to lost, strength to strength.

Very deliberately Parker hugged Hardison, and then Eliot, making eye contact longer than she'd ever thought she could, before.

She made it to the top with five seconds to spare.

~*

It was really a trivial task, compiling the strings of numbers and letters Hardison had gotten when he Escaped the Rooms, Eliot had been handed by Shelly, and Parker had found taped to the buzzer at the top of the tower. Three seconds, tops, to unscramble the time and place. Warehouse District (again), noon on Christmas Day.

“What do you think it is this time?” Parker asked. “Does Santa need rescuing again? Maybe there are a bunch of toys that need to be tracked down and delivered?”

“Whatever it is, it better not take too long. There's prep on top of baking time- did I tell you what recipe I settled on? It's-”

“-Going to be great. Yeah, we trust you. And I built Nana the slickest present this year, been working on it for months.”

They did go to Nana's for brunch, armed with so many presents for the kids that it took all three of them three trips to cart them inside, so large was Nana's extended created family.

The adults were just sitting back in the aftermath of the wrapping paper explosion when Hardison was rapped on the head. “Shouldn't you three be heading off 'bout now?”

Parker looked hurt, before “Oh right! But aren't you coming with us?”

Nana only smiled. “Off with you now.”

The warehouse loading dock was open, the inside dark. A united front, they stood on the threshhold, deep breath, took one step-

“Merry Christmas!”

Thousands of twinkle lights supplemented the industrial glare over the heads of the hundreds of people inside.

“Nate? Sophie?”

The two were feet away, beaming.

“How's this for a surprise, right?”

“Gotta say, Nana's plan blew ours out of the water.”

“You're still giving us presents though, right?”

“Yes Parker. We still got you presents.” Sophie rolled her eyes, but it was an indulgent fondness for her Team, which she'd forever miss, even if she loved her new life with Nate and had no regrets.

“And of course we got- Corporal Perry?”

The very first person they'd helped on their first real job as a crew, was walking towards them.

“Couldn't turn down a chance to come thank you again, could I? Especially now I can walk around under my own steam. But you don't know how many other soldiers we helped out with that cash, too.”

Even while he was speaking, more and more faces looked familiar.

“Is this-”

“Are these?-”

“Hold on-”

“Uh huh!” Sophie's real smile outshone any of her many characters'. “Not everyone, of course. Big holiday and all that.”

“But,” Nate continued, “turns out a lot of people consider themselves part of the Leverage family.”

Hardison gave a squealing Ashley Moore a big hug, and in this new context Parker gave her a real one too. Meanwhile Eliot was ruffling Cory's hair, learning that the kid hadn't just become a man, but a foreman.

Years worth of Jobs, people and families they'd helped, friends they'd made, all, improbably, under one roof.

“It really is surreal.”

“It's good work you're doing, is what it is.”

“Nana!”

“Didn't put it together until my friend Rita came over with her cousin, and she recognized your picture, Alec. Wouldn't stop asking how I knew the man helped save her son Jimmy from a bad spot he'd gotten into.” The others looked amongst themselves, wonderingly. “What y'all been doing, a lot of people been helped, and a good deed always comes back around.”

The next hour was spent shaking hands and accepting hugs, catching up and being reminded that what they walked into every time was just a crisis point, and the lives that had been interrupted continued on, rich and full, after they packed up and went on to the next job. It could be so easy to forget that not everything in the world was a problem with a solution only they could provide.

The people there, the stories they represented, well, there are too many to name, but all are remembered. And Eliot even forgot about his yams.

Eventually the five, plus Nana, found themselves alone, relatively speaking.

Parker sighed. “You know, there's only one thing missing...”

On cue, the other four teammates produced stacks of cash.

“No, not that...”

Hardison and Eliot exchanged glances and secret smiles. “Go look outside.”

And when she did, it was snowing. Hardison and Eliot walked up, one to each side, and arms entwined, they spent a couple quiet moments together, watching.

The party didn't last all night, there were dinners to gather around, kids to put to bed, other family to spend time with, but it lasted long enough. And as people filed out, turning to new friends and those with whom they shared a sacred bond, regardless of age or station or religion or background, the sentiment, today, was the same:

A Very Merry Christmas, One and All!


End file.
